


The Effort

by orphan_account



Series: Zadkiel Spawn of Beelzebub Prince of Hell and the Archangel Fucking Gabriel as Raised by Anthony J. Crowley and The Angel of the Eastern Gate Aziraphale [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Biology, Established Relationship, Footnotes, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Other, kind of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "We both made the Effort again and I’m afraid that being out of practice had some side effects."Read the tags.





	1. Chocolate Digestive Biscuits

**Author's Note:**

> Because of the coding used to make the footnotes work it is best to read this fic "Chapter by Chapter" rather than "Entire Work."

Sometimes a man-shaped being just wants to lay on his Couch in black, fleece pajama pants and a crop top that proudly declares Killer Queen on it.[1]That being sometimes wants to have his man-like feet in the lap of a man-shaped being who is willing to rub his man-like feet as they watch a rerun of Cheers. That being sometimes wants the other being to also be in his fleece pajamas that are printed with hideous cartoon kittens wearing various beach accouterment.

Instead of getting his desired foot rub he suddenly smells cinnamon and stomach acid and feels energy zing through his body as his legs are unceremoniously thrown from the lap they’d been so happy to inhabit.

In the five years since the You’re-Not-My-Dad Incident, the pair have been visited by their respective head offices twice.

Dagon, Lord of the Files, had sent a very nervous lackey up to the bookshop to get Crowley to sign his official retirement paperwork. The pension wasn’t so bad.

The nice delivery man who had been tasked with delivering and then retrieving the badges of office from the Horsepeople had shown up one afternoon with a package for Aziraphale. Inside was a gold watch engraved with angel wings and a tiny replica statuette of the sword Aziraphale had given away. Attached was a sticky note with a smiley face drawn on it. The note had burned Crowley something awful. She really did have a sense of humor.

In the same five years that had passed since then, they had gotten married or as married as two immortal beings could. They’d spent a year-long honeymoon traveling Earth before settling down in the bookshop. They spent their days together and apart with no fear as to what would happen if someone were to check[2] the Earth Observation Files. Retirement was being exceptionally good to them.

“No. Absolutely not. We are not opening that door.” The way Crowley moves his body to stand might imply he has no hip bones. “They can fuck right off, Angel. Angel!” He has learned in the last six thousand years that despite his sweet, bookish appearance his Aziraphale is quite capable of Smiting and is far more physically stronger than the demon can ever hope to be. Even using all of his weight[3] as leverage he is easily shaken off of the angel’s arm where he’d attempted to hold him in place.

Aziraphale swings the bookshop door open while simultaneously miracling a housecoat and sunglasses onto Crowley.

Of all the creatures in the universe the demon expected to see standing on their doorstep he does not expect this. The Archangel Fucking Gabriel and The Lord Of Flies, Lord Beelzebub, Prince Of Hell stand slightly wide-eyed and awkward. Gabriel’s hands are behind his back and he stands ramrod straight. Beelzebub slouches slightly and holds out a tube of chocolate digestives.

“Hello! We are requesting entrance into your domicile so that we might partake in a private conversation!” Gabriel speaks in that faux cheery, overly confident tone that only Archangels and assholes can pull off. Beelzebub wiggles the biscuits and lets out a buzz.

“No. Close the door. Angel. Aziraphale. No.” The angel’s eyes go from wide-eyed shock to the wide-eyed, slightly pouty look that guarantees Crowley will do whatever he wants. “Fine! Let them in! I’ll put on the fucking kettle and we’ll all have tea and biscuits!” He throws up his hands and moves aside to allow their former employers into their home.

Aziraphale takes the proffered sweets and gently directs the pair to, “Please sit! Just past the shelves there. Thank you, thank you.”

Crowley does not move to the kitchenette to make tea. He’ll be three times damned if he’s going to serve Heaven or Hell ever again in any sort of capacity.

Gabriel sits on the Couch with his twiddling hands in his lap. Beelzebub sits right next to him and sprawls in such a way that their thighs are most definitely squished together. Crowley would see red if his sunglasses didn’t make everything a little grey tinted. Guests do not sit on the Couch. That is their Couch! They use it for watching the telly and reading and cuddling and, on many occasions, forking! Guests sit in the Ugly Chairs!

Through the fabric of the miracled housecoat, he feels the warm, soothing hand on his lower back. “Sit down, darling.” And so he sits in one of the Ugly Chairs. For once his posture is absolutely perfect. The Queen would be proud. Aziraphale settles into the Ugly Chair next to him. He places his ringed left hand gently onto the demon’s knee and keeps it there.

“Yes! Well... Thank you for allowing us into your domicile at this late hour.”  
“Home.” Beelzebub buzzes.  
“Home! Your home! We understand that this is an unexpected visit and-“

“Oh shut up and get on with it!” The hand on his knee squeezes briefly.

“What my husband,” and Azirapahle really puts an emphasis on husband, “means to say is that you can simply tell us why you’re here so you can leave as quickly as possible.” All the whole he smiles all round-cheeked and sweet. If he wasn’t so angry and on edge, Crowley would be ever so proud.

Slowly, ever so slowly, The Lord Of Flies, Lord Beelzebub, Prince Of Hell reaches over and pries the Archangel Fucking Gabriel’s hands apart. Never in his uncountable years of existence has Crowley ever witness two of the most bureaucratically powerful creatures ever created hold hands.

This was a fucking nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 His penchant for wearing crop tops had come after an argument with The Them. They had teased him about his overly thin frame and Adam had bought him a top from the women's section as a joke. It fit, though short, and now he had a drawer full of the ugliest, tackiest crop tops. They were all gifts from The Them and made excellent lounge shirts. He also liked to wear them to embarrass the Hell out of those kids.[return to text]
> 
> 2 Sex. They would see a lot of sex.[return to text]
> 
> 3 A less than respectable 50kg. He was missing some bones humans usually had. [return to text]


	2. The Effort

Gabriel relaxes. He actually relaxes and Crowley feels the very strong desire to fling himself across the table and strangle him. He’s had such thoughts since his escapade in Heaven. Anyone who even thinks about speaking to his angel the way that bastard has deserved nothing less than—His knee is squeezed again followed by the feel of a well-manicured thumb brushing meaningless circles over his skin.

“Ahem... Well, Beelzebub and I have had a bit of a...” He trails off as if searching for the right word.  
“Cock up.” Beelzebub buzzes. Both angels wrinkle their noses.

“Problem.” Gabriel supplies instead. “And you two are the only ones we can turn to in this hour of need. I understand we’ve had our differences, but I think we can all agree to let bygones be bygones!”

“You tried to set me on fire.” Aziraphale is still smiling. It’s unnerving really.

The Archangel squeezes the hand clasping his own which earns him what is probably an encouraging buzz. “And I sent you a retirement gift![1]”

“As you may know, Beelzebub was once an Archangel under a different name. Back in those days, before you were Created, Aziraphale, we, Beelzebub and I, had a-“

“We were fucking.” Beelzebub buzzes.

Gabriel’s face goes red and he coughs hard. Maybe he’ll choke to death. That was almost as good as strangling.

“If you’re here to get some sort of approval or advice or something you can traipse on back home.” Crowley snaps.

The Archangel finally finds his corporeal form’s breath. “We need your help.” The faux cheery, overly confident tone is gone. He sounds, for once, almost human. “After what you two did... After what we’ve seen between the two of you... We gave things another shot and something went wrong.” Another hand is placed over his and there’s a low, reassuring buzz from the demon at his side.

“We both made the Effort[2] again and I’m afraid that being out of practice had some side effects.” 

“I am afraid that there was a bit of a mix-up and I... Well... We didn’t even know it could happen or we would have taken precautions!”

Crowley looks slowly to his angel who looks just as confused as he feels.

“He’zzz pregnant.” Beelzebub buzzes.

Aziraphale practically rips open the package of digestives and shoves one into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Crowley really, really wants to get to the strangling.[return to text]
> 
> 2 It was a euphemism among their kind. Angels and demons were capable of a multitude of forms be it human or bundles of eyeballs with a thousand wings. They had to consciously put an effort into sex and gender. Some, like Aziraphale, preferred their Effort as one sex and gender whereas others like Crowley tended to let their Effort wander. He preferred a human male sex organ, but he was known to change his human gender from time to time. Really it depended on the current fashion. How could he say no to flapper dresses?[return to text]


	3. Spiked Hot Cocoa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Neil Gaiman Beelzebub's pronouns are probably Zzzzzzir. They is a lot easier for the sake of this story. Would it be Zzzzzzir/Zzzzzzer? Zzzzzzir/Zzzzzzeir? Who knows.

Aziraphale devours the entire package of biscuits and drinks down hot cocoa that may or may not have been half Godiva Liqueur before he manages to speak. [1]The two demons and purple-eyed angel stare at him with some horror and confusion.

"Pregnant!" Aziraphale chokes. "You can't be pregnant. You're an angel and a demon and we are not even capable of reproduction!"  
Gabriel flashes that big, dense smile of his. "Actually, we are quite capable of reproducing with humans. The Nephilim had been quite a bad idea..."

Crowley leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He steeples his hands and smiles slow and full of teeth. "Who had the cock?" The joined hands of the bureaucratic creatures before them slowly raise at the same time. Beelzebub gets this smug look on their face as they wiggle two fingers on the other hand. Crowley removes his sunglasses as if that will somehow help him figure out what the absolute fuck is going on.

  
"So you both had pricks."  
"Yezzz." Beelzebub buzzes.  
"And this one still got knocked up."  
"Yezzz." Beelzebub buzzes.

Gabriel clears his throat and sits up a little straighter. "We wanted to have some fun so I made my Effort dual purpose and one thing lead to another and—"

"No. No no." Aziraphale speaks up this time. "I will not listen to how you managed to get yourself into this situation. Why are you here? You could just... Miracle the problem away[2]. You all did it with Jesus and the Antichrist just sort of appeared. This could be fixed."

Gabriel is silent then. The only sound is the low buzz of Beelzebub's breathing. They had, thankfully, manifested without the boils or flies. The big fly on their head did blink and flap its wings on occasion.

"We don't want to fix it. We don't know what this child will be like... But we don't want to fix it." Gabriel's expression turns soft. "The Big Bosses haven't said anything. I haven't Fallen and Beelz hasn't burned."

"That's either a really good sign or a really shitty one," Crowley mumbles. "What does it have to do with us? We don't even like you."

"The child cannot be raizzzed in Heaven or Hell. You are an angel and a demon and it will be too." Beelzebub buzzes.

"You want us...To raise your kid?" Crowley's mouth flaps and he makes a series of negative nonsense noises. He shakes his head and then his finger and then relaxes suddenly. He looks over at his angel who is still wearing those kitten pajama pants.

Crowley has always liked kids. He likes how they can go from complete innocence to absolute mayhem in ten seconds flat. He likes that they're always asking questions and demanding those answers. He likes their soft little cheeks and the sweet smell of a fresh baby. He likes when they wave at him when he's waiting in the queue to pick up a pastry for Aziraphale. He had hidden children away on the Ark. He had screamed and cursed into the Heavens as the firstborn sons of Egypt were killed for no reason other than to teach one man a lesson. He had chosen to become Nanny Ashtoreth. If he was honest with himself, which was not something he wasn't very good at, he loved children.

"I'll do it." He sits up a little and doesn't dare hazard a glance at his angel. In moments he finds a soft hand sliding into his own.   
"We'll do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Crowley would take credit for that one. [return to text]
> 
> 2 He would never clarify what he meant by miracaling a fetus away.[return to text]


	4. The Baby

The Archangel Fucking Gabriel and The Lord Of Flies, Lord Beelzebub, Prince Of Hell leave with quiet, sincere thanks. Gabriel pats Aziraphale hard on the shoulder and shakes Crowley's hand awkward and limp-wristed. Beelzebub doesn't offer any sort of touching.

Angel and demon stare at the still bustling streets of late night Soho. No one had noticed the tall, purple-eyed man-like being and his short fly-headed companion as they walked away from A.Z. Fell and Co.

"Did we just agree to take in the child of the Archangel Gabriel and the Prince of Hell Beelzebub?" Aziraphale asks slowly and somewhat confused.  
"Uh...Well...Nnk...Yeah."  
"And did we agree because you agreed without consulting me."  
The demon's shoulders go limp. "I'm sleeping on the couch, aren't I?"  
"For a very long time, my love."[1]

* * *

Sometimes a man-shaped being just wants to lay on his Couch in black pajama pants and a crop top that proudly declares World's Best Aunt on it. That being sometimes wants to have his feet in the lap of a man-shaped being who is willing to rub his male-like feet as they watch an educational documentary about human child development. That being sometimes wants the other being to also be in his pajamas that are printed with hideous cartoon cats in various sushi situations.

  
Instead of getting his desired foot rub he suddenly smells cinnamon and butyric acid[2] and feels energy zing through his body as his legs are unceremoniously thrown from the lap they’d been so happy to inhabit.

  
In the six or so months since the We're-Going-To-Be Dads Incident, the pair have been visited by their respective head offices exactly zero times. They'd agreed to adopt the ineffable child of Archangel Fucking Gabriel and The Lord Of Flies, Lord Beelzebub, Prince Of Hell and had on occasion received short messages from the pair. Gabriel had gained quite a bit of weight that no matter how hard he tried he could not hide using his powers. Beelzebub sent pictures. As far as Aziraphale and Crowley could tell the bureaucrats had hidden away somewhere on Earth and called it a business trip.

The scent of angelic cinnamon and demonic butyric acid there is the sweet, fresh smell of a new baby.

In the six months since the visit, the bookshop had slowly grown a third floor. No longer did Crowley and Aziraphale inhabit the tiny bedroom with attached kitchenette and bathroom that was on the second floor of the shop. Now they had a proper little flat with two bedrooms and a bathroom with an actual bathtub. The kitchen was tiny but did more than boil water and hold milk in the minifridge. The whole flat was baby proofed twice over[3] and the nursery was a lovely green with plants that had been terrified into being perfect for the child to come. It came without saying that the angel and demon who inhabited A.Z. Fell and Co. were extremely excited to soon be parents to whatever it was that would come through their door.

The Archangel Fucking Gabriel and The Lord Of Flies, Lord Beelzebub, Prince Of Hell stand in the doorway just as awkwardly as the first time they had appeared only this like Gabriel is holding something small and soft in his arms and Beelzebub holds something small and soft in their arms too. They're quickly ushered inside and it is Crowley who circles and hovers around Gabriel to get a glimpse at what he's holding. The Archangel curls his lip at him.

"We weren't expecting you so soon!" Aziraphale ushers them to the Couch while managing to wrangle is demonic husband out of the way.

"We did not realizzze the Gabriel'zzz condition for some time." Beelzebub sits next to the angel just a little closer than the last time they'd stolen then prized Couch.

Crowley sits because he is forced to sit by Aziraphale's great strength. He has been the one most excited for the child. Never in all of his years alive in Heaven, Hell, and Earth has he imagined that he would be a father. Aziraphale wasn't very keen on children, but seeing the unrestrained excitement on the demon's face all these months when he went on about the baby had at least convinced him that it wouldn't be so bad if it was their child. It had already been decided that he would not be the one to go on play dates.

"Well? What is it? Crowley demands. He smells only baby and even lets his tongue flick out briefly just to make sure. There's no extra cinnamon and no extra stomach acid. Just sweet, soft baby.

"Human." Gabriel finally speaks. "As far as we can tell... He's human." The baby is swaddled in a soft. angelic white cloth that is pulled back to reveal an equally soft baby. There's no sign of demonic boils or a fly on his little head. His cheeks are fat and pink and there's a covering of black hair on his human baby-shaped head. "No wings. No fangs. Nothing. "

Crowley is up in a flash and Gabriel is almost too shocked to not let him take the bundle. He holds the child close and strokes his cheek with the back of his index finger. He can feel the awful wave of love and affection that rolls off of Aziraphale.

"And it's a human boy?" He'll take a peek later. Neither Gabriel nor Beelzebub seemed to really have a grasp on human sex organs.

"Yezzz." Beelzebub buzzes. "We can't explain why it izzzn't an angel or a demon. We are the same speciezzz."

Crowley kneels next to Aziraphale so he can see the fat little creature in his arms. "Such a sweet face..." He murmurs. "Have you named him?"

Archangel and Prince look at each other. In Beelzebub's hands rests a small, soft toy fly.  
"We thought Zadkiel," Gabriel speaks after a moment.  
"The archangel of forgiveness?" Crowley eyes them and is gifted a nod from both creatures. He turns to his husband who smiles fondly.  
"Zadkiel[4]it is then." He stands and keeps the child close to his chest.

"You'll keep him safe?" Gabriel asks. "Things are changing in ways none of us understand. He should not be human. He should not exist."  
"We shouldn't have been able to stop The End, but we did," Aziraphale speaks softly. "And we will keep him safe. Whatever it is that She has planned... We will keep him safe."

The Archangel Fucking Gabriel and The Lord Of Flies, Lord Beelzebub, Prince Of Hell and Parents of Zadkiel leave after a very long time. The little one is gifted soft glances and gentle touches by his parents. Beelzebub tucks the little toy into his crib. Gabriel miracles an angel next to it. They don't promise to visit because they know this child would not be safe if Heaven or Hell knew the truth. This is all they can do.

"You'll have to put him down sometime, beloved." Aziraphale smiles when Crowley settles onto the Couch with the bundle still held in his arms.  
"Oh shut up."

* * *

Eleven years later young Zadkiel Azra Crowley falls from one of the high ladders in the bookshop and screams bloody murder. His arm is broken at an awkward angle. Aziraphale rushes to him. He doesn't even care that he's just broken the binding on a first edition copy of Moby Dick. "Let me fix that for you! No tears, little angel!"

Zadkiel snivels and hiccups in the ugly way children cry. He shakes his mess of black hair. "I can do it, Dad." His arm mends and from somewhere upstairs Crowley swears as his perfectly pulled espresso turns to wine[5]. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 It was possibly the worst week of Crowley's life. He didn't even get his morning forehead kisses.[return to text]
> 
> 2 Vomit. Demons who didn't spend much like on Earth hadn't learn to hide the constant smell of feta cheese.[return to text]
> 
> 3 They couldn't be sure what exactly Gabriel would birth. One couldn't be too careful. [return to text]
> 
> 4 They would argue about a middle and last name for weeks. [return to text]
> 
> 5 After panicking over why their human son could suddenly perform very familiar miracles Crowley had noted that the wine was a very good vintage. Zadkiel sat through an hour long lecture about tasting wine without permission. [return to text]


End file.
